people kept telling her she was weird. some said it jokingly. others, meant it. a part of her too, thought she was weird. she'd do the...well...weirdest things. like, when someone was sleeping, she'd stop next to him and check to see if he was breathing or not. all the time. she kept an extemely tattered pink-turned-grey blanket under her pillow, and refused to get rid of it even though it stank.
it was one of those days when the weather just drives you insane. she was sweaty, sticky, and probably smelled. she didnt do much work though. it was just...a lot of things...
she didnt really like beer, but drank it anyway. she just wanted to get high...for some reason. there was no sex ofcourse; just a pleasant light headedness. yes, and she smoked pot too.
she'd realized that a little part of her detested him...for his dependance; his inactivity; his silence...his goddamn silence; his keno lottery tickets; his uncomprehending look; his helplessness. another part of her, hated her for detesting him.
krum didnt know this. he thought he had her all figured out,...but by god, he didnt know this. she wanted to tell him, but couldnt. she felt guilty...some kind of an imaginary line would be crossed by telling him. they discussed
Prufrock instead.
krum told her that she played
victim all the time. she did too...most of the time. not consciously though. you never do these things consciously. hell who knows...
thackeray was another problem. he would have probably argued, that it was her whole victim jazz, but she really thought he was messing up. in a big way. he had an accident and broke his leg. she completely forgot to call him later.
she had a dream about the guy who molested her when she was young. just his face. it was pretty random after all these years. she couldnt remember what he was doing in the dream. saying something?...staring?...
cricket wasnt as interesting as it used to be. she didnt even bother finding out the scores. the newspapers took take of that, the next morning. she now liked football more. it was faster, crazier, and she finally understood the rules. she wanted to play football...in the rain.
she tried crying, but couldnt. infact, she thought of the saddest things that had happened to her, and to people she knew, but just couldnt cry. it was almost exasperating!
the army really freaked her out. men in uniform were hot...make no mistake about that; but she never wanted to be married to an army guy. the mere thought, was unsettling. her ex had made up a very stupid song about kargil after the war. it was actually funny.
the day was just too hot...for anything. the beer and weed combination had the desired effect. she sang the first two lines of a
coldplay song about twenty five times, after which they had to give her another joint, to make her shut up. for some reason, she felt insulted at this. she started crying; and for some reason, couldnt stop.
